


A Grimm Beginning for an Angel

by King_Of_Ducks



Category: RWBY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:56:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9412694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/King_Of_Ducks/pseuds/King_Of_Ducks
Summary: A cyborg and fauna hybrid try to survive in a world that no longer knows their names. Add a corrupted AI and a few old enemies and you have a recipe for a wild ride. I mean what could go wrong? (Will continue over time. First attempt at a fanfic.)





	1. Aftershock - Garth

This place stunk of fear. To think that less than an hour before this place held hundreds if not thousands of onlookers, each bursting with excitement and anticipation. The air had been filled with screams and hollers, eager for the spectacle mere minutes away.  
I remember peering out of the shadows at the centre of the arena. Two red-headed beauties stood silently, carefully studying the other with utmost concentration. Part of me was glad that I wasn't up against them. Those two were dangerous. I knew it instinctively. Call it a knack I had acquired over the years. But that danger wasn't a problem. My mission was to merely locate and observe.  
No more. No less.  
My target had been “The Angel”. A military AI designed by the private company ATLAS as an attempt to build a fighting machine that could pass off as a regular human. Decked to the nines with power and potency with the ability of being virtually inconspicuous in the public eye. Well, that's what Lance said anyway. He wasn’t the most trustworthy when it came to information that dealt with his past.  
Personally, I didn’t see this event fitting the requirements of being inconspicuous. But hey, that was none of my business. It just made my life easier. And I wasn’t complaining. It had taken months and more than its fair share of migraines and sleepless nights to track this little ghost down. And now ATLAS served her to me on a silver platter.  
Just my luck I suppose.  
The sound system had announced the fighters’ names when they had been chosen. Penny Polendia and Pyrrha Nikos .  
The first woman Penny was dressed in a slim blouse and short dress of clockwork greys. She didn't seem armed which was odd. I knew from the rounds before that everyone fought with some sort of weapon. Shotgun gauntlets, sniper rifle scythes, pistol knives, grenade launcher battle hammers, guns, blades. Heck, even trumpets were weapons round here.  
Pyrrha on the other hand was dressed in light gladiator armour from a civilisation of old. Her back was adorned with a golden shield and short handled spear. In comparison to Penny, Pyrrha seemed nervous. Her eyes constantly darted about the arena, searching for something or someone. Poor thing never found it.  
The loudspeakers counted down to the fight, numbers quick and concise. Within moments it was underway.  
I have never been a fan of violence. It never did me any good. It never did anyone any good. Yet there I was seeing two beauties try to straight out murder each other. Well maybe not go as far as murder, but they would definitely go till the other couldn't get back up.  
I remember bile rise in my throat. Even now the rotten flavour still lingered there. It was so hard not to leap between them and plead them to stop. But in my heart I knew that was a bad idea. They would just end up attacking the thing that stood between them.  
Predictable.  
Painfully predictable.

I looked on at the onslaught from either side. Penny had shed her innocent look to one of calculated indifference, green eyes glowing with joy. She had finally unsheathed her weapon.  
Swords.  
Lots of them.  
12 to be precise. Each seemingly floating on thin air. Every one following the flowing motions of Penny’s arms, gliding through the air with terrifying grace. Blow after blow was given and received. Counters, parries, blocks, dodges. Not a single swing or thrust hit its mark. It almost like they were dancing to a silent tune. Pyrrha did remarkably well in a virtually 12:1 scenario. Even a man like me could admire her ability to monitor and counter each and every sword. Such calculated grace.  
Then something changed.  
The fighting had stopped. Pyrrha had been completely disarmed. The eyes of both fighters met with a knowing look. It was now or never. This was the beginning of the end. Penny was first to the mark, her swords poised ready to charge at the enemy. Yet the enemy did not move. Pyrrha didn’t try to recover her weapons. Didn't try to run. She just stood there. For a moment, I had wondered why. But the answer hit me like a ten tonne of bricks.  
Fear. She was terrified. I could smell it from where I stood. It wasn’t like her. No matter how she fought. No matter if she had the upper hand or not. No matter how uncertain she had been, fear had not been the issue. Something had gone terribly wrong.

And with that the swords came raining down.

Now, an hour after the battle had ended, that very smell of fear enveloped this place. The loudspeakers whispered broken static and the lights lay discarded and broken on the floor. Not a single human or fauna dared step foot in this place; this minefield of misfortune.  
But I did.  
I walked through the abandoned grandstands down to the centre of the arena. Monsters of black and bone crept and slithered around me, completely oblivious to my presence. Grimm. They had been the reason everyone had fled. Things of darkness that spread violence and despair like a plague. Arriving like a tidal wave so large that even a school of hunters, huntresses and a legion of soldiers had to run.  
No. Run was too harsh of a word.  
“Tactical withdrawal”. That sounds better. They did try to fight back.

By now I had made my way to the central platform steps. The surface was littered with dying Grimm, bodies disintegrating into nothing but dust. One body stood out over all the others. A Griffon. Broken and left for dead. Its eyes wandered the stage, watching its brethren float away in the breeze. It turned to me. Looked me in the eye. My hand instinctively brushed its beak, clearing the blood and dust and grime. I could feel its pain. No. Her pain. She had lived so long. Long enough to see the rise of this civilisation and the last. She had seen countless rises and falls of her kind, and in each rise she had only watched.  
Yet here she was. On her dying breath. The one and only time she had lifted a claw with her kind. The one time she had thought they could win. Only to be beaten by two men with a thermos and an axe. She could feel her body start to turn. For the first time in her life she felt what it was like to feel fear. I felt her push her beak into my chest, blood red tears dribble down to stain my shirt. My mind raced on what to do. She was a being created by fear and hate. Born to wreak havoc on the races of man and fauna. But even with that I could not bring myself to hate her.  
After all, she reminded me of myself back then.  
I pulled her close, tattered feathers pricking my face. I muttered useless words, trying to comfort her in the only way I could. We sat there for a moment; unmoving. Just letting time roll on by without us. She felt happy. Happy that a stranger of the race she was born to hate could bring himself to forgive her.  
After what seemed like forever she nudged me away. Our eyes met for the last time. They looked so different from before. No more fear. No more pain.  
Just acceptance.

The Griffon reached out and dropped something in my hand. A bone ring, etched with the red marks of her kind. Wings, beaks, claws. They were all on here. This was her remaining life force, her power, all imbued into the small thing pulsing in my hand.  
I gave a bow of gratitude. She, a small nod, and with that the light faded from her eyes. The giant Griffon’s body slowly melted into nothing, whisked away into the world beyond. First the wings. Then the limbs. Then the body. Finally, the head. Lost forever.  
I stood alone. Looking at a near barren stage. Only one thing remained, standing tall and silent.  
A sword.  
Penny’s sword. Around it lay the butchered remains of the machine that was Penny Polindia. Her final attack hadn’t been good enough. Instead leaving her wide open for an unexpected counter attack.  
But that was a memory I didn’t want to recall. Part of me just wished this night was just a bad dream. That I would wake up and everything would be fine. But the ring in my hand said otherwise. Looks like death was on the cards tonight after all.  
What was that saying again? Ah yes.  
“Violence breeds violence. Fear breeds fear.”  
It was just so... Predictable.  
Pathetically predictable.


	2. The Black Queen - Lance

I don’t like desks. They annoy me. I don’t really know why. Is it the fact they force you to sit down when using them? Is it that they restrict your ability to move? Or maybe it’s the fact I was stuck under a desk for four and a half hours waiting for the building’s security detail to go away.

You know what? It’s probably the latter.

It got boring really quickly. After the first 40 minutes I was sick of it. There are only so many times you can look up at the bottom of a desk before the mosaic of gum becomes bland. I even tried different desks to try and switch it up. Thinking back that just made it worse. It is ridiculous how much gum is under those desks. I mean this was the secret sub-station of the Cross Continental Transmit Tower of Beacon, located in what is considered one of the most important buildings of the entire kingdom, the Beacon Academy. One would think that the cleaner would think about clearing it up every once and awhile. Ugh.

I quickly checked my watch it the faint glow of the monitor above me: 8:47PM. The security detail switched to an outdoor patrol for the rest of the night at 8:49PM. Well that’s what Garth told me. He’s usually pretty good with these surveillance sort of things. He sort of just blends into the shadows at whim. Which is awesome but also really creepy.

Then again that sums him up well. Awesome and creepy. Nice guy really. I mean he’s a bit of a pessimist at the best of times but hey, not everyone can be a Merry Ms Two-Shoes all the time.

The turning of the elevator’s many locks broke me from my thoughts. Silence crept over the room. No footsteps, no breathing, no strange unexpected noises of added security systems. Good. I hauled myself upright, feeling my servos protest from the sudden effort.

I’d have to admit this place looked a lot friendlier during the day with people about. Now the usual bright interior was illuminated by the soft glow of monitors. 8:51PM. No time to admire the silence. Work waits for no man. Or fauna. Or cyborg. Thinking about it time doesn't really wait for anyone.

Hang on. Off track again. Damn it…

I spun around to the computer behind me, fingers dancing across the keypad. Use the security pass of a Mr Evan Backros who is currently taking a nap in the caretaker's cupboard.  Upload password bypass. Sneak past the other security features such as spider threads and cyber-traps.  Break the interface (my favourite bit) using a tri-dimensional byterpular cracker. Access admin privileges and BAM! Into the good stuff.

It’s moments like these where you can’t help but smile. Even though I was in a restricted, somewhat high security tower of kingdom-saving technology and what seemed to be a nuclear fusion reactor that could blow this entire place to smithereens in the basement (ok maybe not that last one), I felt quite at home. Just tapping away to what do what I needed to do. No distractions, no interruptions, no Garth complaining that my work station is an absolute pigsty.

Ahh. Good times all round really.

Now to get what I wanted. ATLAS sends all communications and troop commands through this tower encrypted as other transmissions. So, the big question is what sort of transmissions? Well that's why I sat under a desk for so long. Presently there was an interschool combat tournament being held at the local arena. Garth had somehow figured out that my Angel might be part of the competition. How I have no idea. He’s full of surprises.

His job: See if he can identify “The Angel” and observe what she has become.

My job: Find out her identity from ATLAS itself in case things go sideways on his end.

Personally, he got the better deal. Even if he hates fighting it's a lot better than what I just sat through. My shoulder still wasn’t right. Probably needed some severe calibration.

Have I mentioned I don't like desks?

Anyways, by being at the tower at night there would be little transmissions over the substation line, and hence I could get an easy read on what transmissions are ATLAS’s. Like shooting fish in a barrel. Just the barrel is full of fish you don’t want. Annoying, but given the firepower you get there eventually. I plugged my arm’s external port into the monitors console, uploading my latest creation. Pip.

He appeared as a small paperclip in the corner of the screen.

“Good evening Pip”

“Tally ho good chap. Good to see y...” Pip paused for a moment. “Sorry to skip the formalities Sir,” he continued, “but I have reason to believe we don't have much time. There seems to be a scheduled security check of all servers is approximately five minutes and thirty seconds. I’m assuming you want me to find something in the encrypted transmissions flying through here?”

I chuckled. He was a good little creation. To-the-point and sharper than a razor’s edge. Not bad for an AI that was created in three days. “That would be correct Pip. Look for any material that mentions anything about an angel. Do you think you have enough time?”

“My calculations say it will take me approximately three hours and 40 minutes to complete the task with this console in particular. However, the network reads 35 computers in this room alone. Giving me access to that computing power should reduce the time by approximately 1300%. Four minutes and thirty seconds in total to give a precise value. Would you prefer that Sir?”

“Consider it done.” I replied simply, fingers already typing commands left right and centre. Upload network clone. Divert incoming communications through the clone. Shift console routing from all those not connected. A well-placed tri-dimensional byterpular cracker later and Pip was raring to go. “Alright Pip,” I said, slowly backing away from his console, “Show me what you got.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Pip replied. He smiled, which looked weird on a paper clip. His avatar began to pop up on the surrounding monitors, until 35 Pips stared back at me with that cheesy grin. I could hear the consoles boot into overdrive, filling the room with a symphony of whirring.

I’m just glad this room was soundproof or this could have been a problem.

As I sat back against that joyous desk something struck me. Why was there a security check today? I mean I had monitored this network for a full two weeks leading up to this night's escapade and never had there been an automated security check. They had always been done manually by the headmaster on a Saturday evening. Today was Friday, and he was sitting upstairs drinking tea last time I checked.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck start to rise. This wasn’t right. What did I miss. What changed.

“Pip?”

“Yes Sir?”

“Could you disconnect and hand me the reigns for the console on my left? I need to check something.”

“Certainly Sir, Updated estimated time of completion now two minutes and thirty seconds with security check at three minutes and 12 seconds.”

My mind only half registered those numbers, I was too busy trying to figure out what this check was. I pulled up the schedule log for upcoming security and software updates on the main CCT tower. With a quick scroll, I found and opened the upcoming security check. Registered at 9:12PM four weeks ago. Cross-reference the date with security breaches and divvy up the deleted data revealing that only a few minutes earlier two guards’ alert beacons went off. Someone had gone through a lot of trouble to add it in. To hide something maybe? But why wouldn't you do that during the day? It’d just as easy if not easier. It’s just an admin command. It didn't make sense. I checked the uploaders credential. BPR IDHOSPE.

Anagrams… Brilliant. It wasn’t even a difficult one either. RED BISHOP. Boom. Done. The creator probably felt like being a real smartass when they wrote that.

Wait… Red Bishop. Operation Red Bishop. That rang a bell I didn’t like the sound of. It was a cyber-infiltration technique that I made for ATLAS that one time to disguise an intrusive programme as a secur…

“PIP!” I yelled, ripping my eyes off the screen, “Abort code 14574”

“Of course, Sir. Execut, ut, ut, ut…” he began, voice trailing off into broken static. Within an instant, the room was bleached in red. Pip’s smiling face was replaced with a picture of a chess piece. A black queen.

“Hello there.” A new voice called. It wasn’t Pip’s I assure you. Pip was male. This voice was female, her silky voice loaded with venom. “I don't know why you are here or what you are doing, but presently you and your little ‘friend’ are being quite a nuisance. It’s hard enough controlling an entire ATLAS fleet without someone rerouting all the signals through their own network clone.”

“What did you do to Pip?” I asked calmly. I needed to buy myself time. Time to figure out what the hell this thing is. It wasn’t operation Red Bishop. ATLAS wouldn’t hack itself.

“This thing you call ‘Pip’ is taking a little rest at the moment whilst I overview its code structure for salvaging. But don’t you have more pressing matters?”

“No. Not really,” I replied simply, “The security detail is on outside patrol and the rooms monitor AI is down for repairs. You and your antics Miss Black are my only problems right now.”

“What about the Grimm invasion outside?”

 

Now that took me by surprise. “There is an invasion outside? Since when?” I quickly walked to the window. Below me was a battlefield. Hunters versus the rest. Heck, even the White Fang had tagged along. I hadn’t seen those guys since for a while. Quite a sight to see from this high up.

“About half an hour.” the Queen answered, “Did you not realise? Pathetic.”

“Hey now. No need for such words. The room is sound-proof. Can’t hear squat from outside.”

“What about the Grimm that have flown past this window repeatedly every two minutes?”

“I’m sort of focusing on more important things.” I shot back, “Well, was, thanks to a certain someone.” I glared at the closest monitor camera. This lass was a strange one. Very... Moody, for an intrusive AI.

“Aren’t you worried about them? They could all be slaughtered. My calculations read they are fighting a losing battle.”

I laughed that that one. “Me? Worried about the hunters and huntresses of Beacon? Have you seen what these people fight with? They have minigun briefcases. They have revolver bo staffs. Currently, I am unarmed. Do you really think I’m gonna risk my life for those who can handle themselves? I’m sorry. No. Not happening. I have more important things to worry about. Such as my little buddy that you are currently holding hostage.”

Once again I spun back to the desk behind me, fingers typing for my life. Well, not my life. Pip’s life. But a life nonetheless. I wasn’t losing Pip to this thing. She, on the other hand, was quiet.

“You really care about him, don't you?” she began, voice so much softer than before. “If only you had felt the same abou…”

The Black Queen was silent, room returning to the eeriness that once was. I looked back at the monitor where she had been, only to be met by a glitchy grinning paperclip.

 

“Tally ho Sir. G-ood to be back in co-control. Thank yo-ou for that diversion. I-I-I was able to kick her off the network and sh-shut down the clone.”

“PIP! Are you okay? Did she hurt you.”

“I’m af-af-fraid my current state is pretty d-dire Sir. She has corrupted most of my c-code during salvaging. I’m s-s-surprised that my voice m-module still works.”

“The data?” I asked, “Do we know the identity of ‘The Angel’?”

“A-again I’m afraid n-not. All I know i-is that your A-angel m-made it to the f-final round. No more information was transm-mitted on the network.”

“Thank you Pip. You did good.”

“Pardon me Sir for s-saying this but I think good is a little bit of-of-of an understatement. I colle- e-cted all that information AND dr-o-ove off an intrusive AI approximately 5324 times m-more powerful than myself-f.  I’d call that more than g-good.”

I smiled at that. Looks like Pip learned more than a thing or two from Miss Black. One of them being a bit of sass. I liked it. “Pip,” I began, Plugging my arm back into the console. “Upload all salvageable code of yourself that you can. Be a shame to leave you behind.”

“Absolutely Sir. Consider it done.”

“Especially your memory cache.” I added, “Can’t forget that.”

“Of course, Sir. I’d like to remember this little escapade. It was quite fun really.”

I looked at him. “You and I need to work on your definition of the word ‘fun.’”

“Another time maybe. Till next time Sir. Or should I say ‘Buddy’?”

“Hey now hang on…” I started.

But it was too late. Pip was already loaded onto my arms internal memory. I couldn't help but chuckle. He actually planned that.

The little devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello random people of the internet!
> 
> This is my first real attempt at an actual story longer than one chapter long so hopefully the quality is as good as the first chapter. Feedback and ideas are appreciated (I'm sort of making it up as I go along you see).
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> King_Of_Ducks


	3. Chapter 3: Hellfire - Garth

It started with a growl. A growl that rumbled up from the pits of hell. At first, I didn’t notice it. I was too busy cursing at Pip. But oh, did it grow. That growl quickly became a roar. The ground shook, computer monitors stuttering in an epileptic nightmare.

I remember the hairs on my neck stand in fear as the elevator doors were ripped from their posts and smashed through the windows. Any anger towards Pip had been swept away by the wind that now blew through here like a hurricane. I peered into the volcano which was the elevator shaft, face cut by countless shards of steel and glass. A glowing red shape stirred at the bottom. It was too far down to make out, but part of me didn’t want to find out. I mean I’m no coward, but you must draw the line somewhere. This was my line. Countless scenarios bounced round my head. Maybe the fusion reactor had broken and mutated a Grimm into a radioactive demon monster. Maybe this was some weird intertwined plot of stealing magic from some sorceress maiden whilst trying to destroy the tower. Maybe neither. At this point I didn't care. As long as it stayed down there, I didn’t have a problem.

But then the screaming started.

The sound of tearing steel echoed through the building from below. The thing bloomed into a scorching white, sending heatwave after heatwave barrelling up towards me. Its claws dragged its body upwards, gripping confidently at the buckling supports. Whatever this thing was it was fast. Within moments it had closed the distance between us significantly. I quickly scampered away from the elevator doorway, eager to get the hell away from whatever it was.  

I had to escape. Hiding wouldn't be enough. I'd be turned into a block of coal and scrap metal if I wasn’t quick about it. Under a desk? Nope. I ain't doing that again. Storage cupboard? Nada. Door wouldn’t fireproof. In saying that nor would the desk. I glanced back at the broken window.

No way. That was a just bad idea.

A really bad idea.

Before I knew it, my feet had made the decision for me, howling winds right on my heels. The heat became unbearable, clouding my vision in its devilish haze. The logical part of me demanded to be listened to, shrieking like a banshee about something important. I didn't listen. With a desperate leap, I flew out the open window, the cold night air greeting me with a gentle hug. That was better. I've always been a fan of cold you see. So much nicer then the hell behind me.

As if on cue, the room behind me exploded into a fireball, meteors of shredded computer parts and burning tables falling like fireworks around me. Twisting around I saw her. A lady, dress burning bright in the flames. She looked at me, eyes burning in a mix of surprise and laughter. I'd have to admit it's the first time meeting a lass while jumping out a building. A little more dangerous than my standard introductions but a little danger never hurt anyone.

Danger. Gravity. Falling. Heh, forgot about those… My stomach dropped. In blind panic I reached out to her, eyes pleading for her to help me out. The thought of crashing into the ground from this height did not appeal. I saw her smirk before I disappeared into the darkness below. She was enjoying this. The dark closed in, imaginary tendrils dragging me further into the void. To think this was the end. Losing to my own stupidity. Chasing after a dream that seemed too good to be true.

But hey, at least her smile was cute.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sudden stop destroyed whatever was left of my shoulder’s servo. The pain receptors in the arm were shot. Metallic ligaments completely shredded. Above me my forearm was skewered by a giant black hand, it's claws glinting in the moonlight. Chance of getting that scrapheap to work again was a million to one. And a replacement wasn’t going to be cheap. Below me the dark abyss churned impatiently, sounds of war still echoing from throughout the city. Why I wasn't a bloody smear on the sidewalk was beyond me. Then again, the obvious answer was that the owner of this hand took pity on me. I wasn’t complaining. Pity works with me. I don't mind being pitied. Especially if it saves my life.

With a jolt the hand pulled me back into the room, carefully lifting me over the pools of molten glass and chargrilled furniture. I looked to where my saviour stood. She stood silently, the black arm growing from her outstretched hand. The claw pulled me closer. I could hear the embers that surrounded her, crackling and whispering in the open air. Once again, she looked at me, staring into the depths of my soul. I stared right back. She liked power. I gathered that much. Best thing to do in that situation was not give it to her. Give her that dazzling smile. Play it cool. Calm and collected. I had this.

“Ahem,” I began, motioning to the ground with my free hand, “May I?”

A flick of her wrist and the arm shattered, shards falling like black snow. I landed deftly and bowed, left arm dangling lifelessly at my side. Volcanic glass. That's what it was.

“A true lady of fire it seems,” I said, rising to stand face to face. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Hopefully you can repay the favour.” she replied simply.

“How so?” I asked, “I won’t be of much use tonight sadly. Arms completely busted from the catch you made.”

That comment got a raised eyebrow.

“Not like that's your fault or anything,” I added quickly, “As I said I thank you for what you did. It was my stupidity in the first place. A small price to pay really. Better to live and breathe with a broken arm than being a red stain on the concrete. You know. Priorities.”

She smiled again. That same sly smile. Way to play it cool me. Well done.

“Your name?”

“Lance Turnka. Freelancer and technology specialist. Pleasure to be of service.” I offered to shake her hand. She just turned to walk back into the elevator shaft.

“Well Lance,” she continued, “for now you can stay out of my way. I have something I need to finish. However, I’m sure once this is all over I could use a mercenary to polish a few things off. On the house of course.”

It was my turn to smile. She drove a hard bargain, but I wasn’t exactly in position to disagree. “I prefer the title freelancer. Mercenary has…” I paused for a moment, “more fatal connotations than what I do. But I’m sure something could be arranged. Over a cup of coffee maybe.”

She turned back, the air burned with power. “We’ll see.”

Like a rocket, she was gone. Up into the heavens without a second glace.

“Hot but cold,” I muttered, trying to calm my racing heart, “I like it.”

After a few minutes of ogling at the ceiling, my mind moved to overlook the room. To the right was nothing.  My vision locked on to the appearance on a slightly singed desk and door. A very familiar desk and door. I wandered over to the storage cupboard. The knob had melted like candle wax, sizzling down the wooden frame. A quick rap of the knuckles told me the door had survived the scorching, and a peek inside told me that this place would have been a lot better choice than jumping out the window. Evan seemed alive. Pulse check. Yep, alive and still out cold. None the wiser to what had just happened.

I sighed, sitting down on what was left of the computer desk. It had been an eventful night. I mean my luck seemed to be on the way up. Pip was still there, I was still alive, I might have landed myself a new employer. No payment on round one but I’m sure I could twist it somehow. Might get Garth’s help on that one. He was always so much better at that then I was. Negotiation. Persuasion. All that fluffy stuff. Give me a fight or a broken machine any day. Then again that's why we work so well together really. He deals with the people and I deal with the plan and execution. Good covering of all bases as far as a freelancer is concerned.

My thoughts were disrupted by the groaning of steel. I glanced over at the elevator. Yep. Someone else on the way up. It’s like no-one has heard of taking the stairs these days. Part of me wanted to rush over. However, my recent experiences told me that was a bad move. Instead I just sat there. Waiting at a safe distance. Watching it all unfold without lifting a finger. The floor shook. Metal screeched. It was all like before, just with less hellfire and impending doom. The elevator shot past, in a flurry of grey and red. Someone had been in there. A girl dressed in Grekonian armour by the looks of it. Not exactly conventional. I went out on a limb to say she was a huntress. That profession always seemed to have certain flair with their attire. My wardrobe was a little less - what's the word - flamboyant. I mean it’s still combat ready and everything but more casual. A smuggler’s got to fit into the crowd.

Sorry, freelancer. Garth hates the word smuggler, but in saying that it’s better than mercenary. We aren’t that low on the moral ladder.

That reminded me, Lady Hellfire was in that general direction. I wondered if they are going to fight or something. That would be quite a spectacle. The Grekonian armoured lass seemed to have some sort of metal based ability. No other way to haul a broken elevator that fast in that direction. Semblances were weird. Little supernatural boosts given to talented individuals to heighten their combat ability or profession. I know a guy who could speed the brewing of alcohol, another who could splinter wood by touching it. For a bar owner and carpenter they were useful semblances to have, but as a combat enhancer? Not so much.

A shuddering boom echoed from above. The entire place seemed to shake. The part of me that told me not to go up started to agree with the rest. I needed to go up. I needed to see this fight. Be rude not too you know? Problem was getting up there. Usually it wouldn’t be a problem. I was good at climbing. Good stress relief. Issue was that I was only good at climbing with all four limbs. Three wasn't quite enough.

I surveyed the room once more. “Think Lance think!” I told myself, “What could you do? Lock the servos? Need screwdriver. Weld the joints in place? Need welding kit. Ugh, why must things be so hard these days.”

An idea sparked in my mind. Sprinting back to the storage cupboard I dived into the supplies that littered the floor. Screwdriver? Check. Wrench? Check. Duct-tape? Close enough. Broom handle? Perfect. Within moments my arm was back in business, servos locked tight and broom handle enforced. Ready to climb. Wandering back, I examined the elevator shaft. All the broken steel and buckled struts made plenty of handholds and ledges. Maybe I didn’t have to fix my arm.

“Too late now,” I muttered, leaping to the first ledge. This was gonna be an interesting climb.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The icy breeze told me I had reached the top. I wiped the sweat from my brow. I hadn’t climbed that high in a while, that’s for sure. I peered over the edge of the elevator shaft. It was quiet. Strangely quiet. The sight before me caught me by surprise. The Grekonian lass knelt at Lady Hellfire’s feet, black arrow protruding from her chest. I could hear the gurgling of blood in her throat. Her eyes looked straight through me, the shock of it all slowly being taken in. The look of a dying girl. A look I never wanted to see again. Lady Hellfire took the poor girl’s head in her hand. With a flash the girl turned to ash, remains slowly whisked away into the night. The flakes gently brushed my cheeks as they passed. A soft voice echoed in my head.

“Save her,” It said, “She doesn’t deserve to die yet.”

For a moment, I was frozen in disbelief. What on earth had I walked into? What just happened? Why is someone dead? Why is there a damned Grimm Dragon up here? And what is with that voice?

A scream of anguish erupted from the far end of the platform. There stood Little Red Riding Hood. A very angry Little Red Riding Hood. Wings of light erupted from her eyes, slowly encompassing everything around her. The light grew bigger, quickly consuming the Dragon with ease. I could hear Lady Hellfire over the light’s deafening hum. She was terrified. Absolutely terrified. Then again so was I, every muscle frozen in place. That strange voice echoed in my mind, shattering the fear that held me.

“Save her. Save her. Save her.” It chanted. “Save her. Save her.”

Now I might not be the fastest bloke but I knew she wouldn’t survive whatever this white stuff was. My gut told me that much. With a gallant leap, I raced towards her, every shred of thought lost to the white.

“Save her. She doesn't deserve to die.”

The distance closed between us, but the white was quicker. I wasn’t going to make it.

“Save her.”

I wasn’t going to make it.

“Save her.”

I leapt with all my might, jumping in front to catch the brunt of the lights attack. I tried to pull her behind cover. To escape the inevitable.

We never made it.


	4. Reunited - Garth

It was raining. Light from the shattered moon pierced the clouds, painting the earth in streaks of ghostly white. The smell of blood and oil strangled me as I walked down those deserted roads. Around me was nothing but bodies: hunters, huntresses, Grimm, soldiers, robots. The whole crew was here, slowly being washed away into what used to be. I kicked a robot’s severed head, the tin casing bouncing away towards the Tower of Beacon. It was quiet now. No more fighting. No more death. Just the wounded turning their backs on a battle no one really won. Scared red eyes peered out of the bushes. I smiled back reassuringly. At least some Grimm survived. This city wouldn’t stay in the hands of humans much longer. The eyes would be safe soon enough. My gaze shifted to the top of Beacon Tower. Something was up there. I could feel the darkness pull at my very bones. Word of my late uncle’s echoed in my head.  
“Where there’s darkness, there’s Grimm.”  
He was never one to be wrong about those sort of things.

I checked the time. 11:24 PM. He was late. Lance should have met me at the rendezvous point nearly half an hour ago. I knew something was wrong. He should have at least flicked me a message if he was tied up somewhere. The cold feeling down my back made me shiver. Something had happened here. Something very bad. Wiping the water from my eyes I examined the monument that was Beacon Tower. It had definitely seen better days. All through the building steel struts and twisted supports stuck out like broken bones. Higher up smoke billowed from one of the buildings rooms. Judging by the lack of damage I guessed some sort of fire bomb.  
Hang on. That was the substation room I had scouted out for Lance.  
“Oh God,” I muttered, “What have you done now…”

I whipped out my phone. _No signal_. Weird. I was standing right outside the Tower. How can there be no signal? A blueprint of the building hovered in my mind. The network router to the wireless transmitter was powered by a generator off site. The router was covered in so much concrete it was virtually indestructible. That left the wires and the transmitter. There were twelve wire lines scattered through the building from top to bottom, each armed with tesla coils and turrets every few metres. Nothing could get close to severing those wires. Not twelve times over. Even with all this destruction at least one would still work. So what was it? The transmitter? But that was at the top. You could only get there by air or through Ozpin's office. That place had more anti air rockets than you could throw a stick at so it couldn't have been that. The only other option was Professor Ozpin’s office. That was just as impossible.  
No-one goes to Ozpin’s office uninvited.  
No-one.

But that was the only option. Someone had taken out the transmitter. Was it that bright light from before? Was it that dark force pulling me from above? Or was it something else? Maybe a mix of the three. I shook the worries from my head. Too many options. Too many uncertainties. I’m sure Lance would fill me in when he got down. All I had to do was wait.  
I was good at waiting.

Time ticked on. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Nothing came out of that building. No smoke. No sound. No movement. Not a single sign that anything remotely living was left in that shell of a place. Even the rain had gotten tired of waiting, leaving the clouds to slowly fade into the night. Something bad had been churning in my stomach, its claws slowly tearing away at my insides. I checked my phone for the umpteenth time. 2:12AM. No service. I swallowed nervously, raking my mind for something to do. Standing here wasn’t going to help him. He was still up there somewhere, and I was going to have to find him.  
I walked out from the shadows, making a beeline for the front doors. It was possible Lance was just stuck up at the top and couldn’t call me. Or he could’ve taking a nap till help arrived. He always did odd things when everything went completely wrong. His way of dealing with it I suppose. I reached for the doorknob, getting ready for the long climb up to the top. My brain stopped for a moment. This wasn’t right. There had been a doorknob last time I came here. In fact there had been a door. A glass door. Yet in front of me was a bland grey wall. I pressed my hand against it.  
Yep. Your plain solid concrete wall. A few cracks and nicks but nothing useful for getting in. I wandered my way around the tower, hand scraping against the hard surface.  
It went on endlessly. No doors. No windows. Just that same grey wall that had so suddenly appeared. My brain struggled with that. There was no way this could be a thing. No way. It was impossible. There had to be a way in somehow.

Out of the silence a voice called me, stopping me dead in my tracks. I could feel something grow within me, making me shudder uncontrollably. Was it fear? No. That wasn’t it. Nor was it anger. More a mix of the two. I looked down a my hands, claws unsheathed and at the ready. My hairs stood at full alert, ears pulled back ready to take on the monster behind me. To think someone simply saying my name could cause such a reaction.  
Ah, that’s what the feeling was.  
Rage.

I tried to calm my racing heart. The thing behind me would have noticed my change. Even so didn't mean I had to confront it in this state. That would only end badly. I sunk my claws into my right arm, little streams of red slowly making their way towards my fingers.  
_This is what rage and fury brings_ , I told myself, _Nothing but pain and misery_. My claws slowly retracted into their sheaths, leaving rugged holes in my shirt. My heart began to slow to a reasonable beat. I swallowed nervously.  
Time to face the devil herself.

With a slow turn I faced her, expression as cold as ice. She looked back with those hard black eyes. Her face was just like when I last saw her, deathly white with black, web like veins covering her cheeks. Her hair was a lot longer now, tied into a traditional Eastern bun. My left arm throbbed at the sight of her. I tried my best to smile. To make it look like I wasn't scared. My lips just wouldn't budge.  
“Salem.” I said simply.  
She smiled at that, taking that moment to walk towards me. Her heels clicked against the hard cobblestones. I didn’t budge. I couldn’t move. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. From what I had researched she never left her domain anymore. Even with my mind racing like it was Salem kept walking. Already she had halved the distance. I could feel my heart speed up. Every fibre of my body told me to run. To get away from her and leave this place behind. But my feet didn't move an inch. I frantically searched for something. I had to stop her. If she as much as touched me I was good as gone. I didn’t want to go there again. To go back to being one of her pets. I barely made back last time. The mere thought made me want to vomit.  
She was nearly upon me now.  
Five metres. Two metres. One metre.  
She reached out to me, fingers mere centimetres from my face. That was it. It was now or never. This didn’t work then and it probably wouldn't work now. But I had to try. One deep breath. Look her in the eye. Here we go.

 _ **“Get away from me.”**_ I ordered, my voice no louder than a whisper. It sounded so strange, so much deeper than my usual tone. But when those words left my lips they transformed into a roar. Salem stopped dead in her tracks, hand falling lifelessly to her side. With dead eyes her figure wavered, twitching like a haunted doll.  
And just like that she was gone.  
In her place was a girl, curled up and shivering on the cold floor. She would have been shorter than Salem, hair a vivid green against her tanned skin. Two bronze pistols adorned her waist, chipped and battered from years of use. The girl's entire body shook in what I could only imagine was terror. It wasn't every day your body forgot who was in charge.  
Something deep within me smiled. I could feel the dark within me stir, hoping that at any moment it could take control. It whispered to me, words full of temptation. _Control her_ , it said, _Make her your ally. Your plaything. Your tool._  
**“Look at me,”** it said. No, I said. She complied, tears streaming down her face.  
“Please,” she whimpered, “Let me go.”  
That look. That look hit me like a freight train, sending me reeling. Faces flooded my vision, each one just like hers. I knew that helplessness. I knew that pain. She didn’t deserve that. No one did.  
I remember sitting there, just looking at her face.  
“I... I’m sorry,” I stuttered, “That. That shouldn’t have happened. None of that should have happened. I’m sorry.”  
I slowly stood, tearing my gaze from her. “The effect will wear off soon. Just give it a minute or two.”

I let out a long sigh. I hated that. Whatever this was. Ever since I had tried to fight Salem this power had latched to me like an unwanted leech. Most of the time I didn't need to use it. In fact I avoided using it. It never went well. This time being no exception. I just hoped she would forgive me.  
Sitting down on the steps near where this strange girl lay I sunk my head into my hands, face looking out into the dying city.  
“Miss. I don't mean to be rude but, may I ask your name?” I saw her flinch, bracing herself for another command. “No need to worry, I don’t intend to do that to you again. Bad for my health you see. A girl should be able to keep her secrets if she wants too.”  
I chuckled. She smiled nervously. Looks like her trust was a hard thing to earn. I mean fair enough. My first impression wasn't exactly praiseworthy. Then again nor was her’s.  
“Well I should introduce myself first considering what happened. Name’s Garth. I work as a freelancer round the Vale. Mainly Beacon. Has a lot more jobs you see. Not mercenary work. You don’t need to worry about me killing you. I don’t even carry a weapon with me these days. If there is one thing I have learnt from my time on this earth is that there is always a better way to solving something than fighting. Talking is usually a good start. A lot less effort that way. What else… Ah yes. My favourite colour is purple. Favourite food is a hot beef vindaloo and I enjoy long walks on the beach.” I paused for a moment, cringing at my own words. “God that sounded cheesy.”  
She smiled at that one. Looks like the effect was wearing off after all.  
“But that’s enough about me. Let’s talk about you.” She went to speak, stopping quickly when I shushed her.  
“Now now. It’s still my turn to speak. You will get yours soon. I mean we have a while. You are waiting for someone in the tower aren’t you?”  
She seemed shocked at that. Looked like my guess was right. “I’m waiting on a friend too you see. He went up there on our latest job. Personal job. Not paid or anything. Though after this I sort of hope we do get paid somehow. Even if it's just drinks on Lance for a night or two. I could use a few after all this is done. But again, talking about you not me. Just nod and shake if I get it right or not. You following?”  
She nodded.  
“Wonderful,” I continued, “Let’s see. Looking at your firepower I’m guessing you are a fighter.”  
Nod.  
“I haven’t seen you fight but I'm gonna guess mid to short range. Pistols gave that away. By the looks of them you’ve been in more fights then you’d like. Nor do you have the money to fix them. Low income in your early years?”  
Nod.  
“Huntress?”  
Shake.  
“ Ah. Makes sense I suppose. Hunters and huntresses usually have a bit in the pocket to attend those schools. I didn’t train as a hunter either. Hmm… Now that that’s sorted I really want to know about what you did to me. Did you create those things?”  
Nod.  
Were they actually there? Physically I mean.”  
She shook her head.  
“Psychic ability?”  
Nod.  
“Natural ability or from your semblance?”  
She gave me a confused look.  
“Sorry. Forgot yes or no questions. Is it your semblance?”  
Nod.  
“So you made me see and feel things that were not there,”  
Nod.  
“That lady, Salem. Did you choose her specifically?”  
Shrug.  
“What do you mean shrug?”  
Shrug.  
“Well you are a big load of help aren't you.”  
“A girl should be able to keep her secrets if she wants to.” The girl replied, voice strained in effort.  
“She speaks! What wonders will come next?”  
“Emerald” She muttered.  
“Pardon?”  
“My name is Emerald.” She repeated curtly, “And thanks for trying to take over my body without my permission.”  
I laughed. “Thanks for making me relive a nightmare without my permission. Jeez, you are lost cause. Not a word of thanks.”

Someone coughed behind us. “Am I interrupting something?” They asked.  
I jumped back in surprise, half falling down the stairs as I did so.  
“L-L-Lance. When did you get here?”  
At the open doors of the tower stood the man himself. He had definitely seen better days. A mix of blood, sweat and dust caked his body. His usually well polished robotic arm looked more like a hunk of metal than an actual limb. It was riddled with holes and tears on every side. For some reason there was a broken broom handle attached awkwardly to the side with duct tape. In his arms lay a lady in red. She didn't seem in any better condition.  
“Round about when you started talking about long walks on the beach,” Lance answered, completely unfazed by the odd look I was giving him, “Wasn’t sure what you were going for so I’d thought I’d stand clear till I figured that out. I mean you weren’t,” He motioned at Emerald, “You know.”  
My disappointed expression gave him the answer..  
“Right, right gotcha. You weren’t going for that. Following.” He grinned at Emerald, “Sorry.”  
Emerald seemed to be having a hard time with what she was seeing, mouth opening and closing like a stunned goldfish. “C-Cinder.” She managed, struggling to stand. “What happened? Did you hurt her.” A flick of the wrist brought her pistols out, carefully aimed at our heads.  
“What a way to treat the rescuer,” Lance replied dryly, “It’s a long story. One which I am way too sober to tell. I’m sure Cinder here can fill it in when she wakes up.”  
As if on queue Cinder shifted in Lance's arms, a faint groan escaping her lips.  
“Ha. What do you know.The damsel awakes.”  
Emerald let out a harsh “Hmph,” before sheathing a pistol. The remaining one still hovered at my forehead. Yep. She didn’t trust me at all.  
Least the feeling was mutual.

After a few minutes of careful persuasion by me and minimal talking from Lance Emerald agreed to take Cinder without blowing our brains over the concrete. My gut told me that those two were bad news. That and the fact that Emerald kept muttering about ‘no witnesses’. I was just glad my head was still attached to my body. As soon as the pair disappeared round the corner I slumped onto the stairs, smacking my head against the ground with a dull crack.  
“Ow.”  
“Well done.” Lance commented, “Good to see your persuasion skills are better than your ability to sit down.” I glared at him. His smile just got wider. “But I do have some good news. I found out that my Angel got to the finals of the tournament. And might have landed us a new job.”  
“Yeah... About that. The name your Angel went by was Penny. Penny Polendia. Fights with 12 flying swords connected to her back by razor sharp strings. Damn good with them too. Trust me. She was well rehearsed in combat. Nearly won. Problem was you had a robot up against an opponent with a metal based semblance. My best guess would be something to do with magnetic fields.”  
“Yeah I think I know the one. Grekonian armour?”  
“Yep. Her name was Pyrrha Nice or something. Ended up going overboard countering what would have been a winning blow. Swords went flying and those razor strings cut through her body like a hot knife through butter. Power core was sliced straight down the middle. Don’t know about the data core or anything else. Salvaged everything I could find. Got a few of her swords too. They’re waiting on the bikes at the rendezvous.”  
Lance was silent. With shaky steps he shuffled down to sit with me. For about ten minutes we didn't do anything but sit. I didn’t mind. He had put so many hours into finding her. In fact I’d go as far was to say he lived for the sake of finding her since we met. And now, after all that time. After all those sleepless nights and spent credits buying information and favours. It had turned to nothing.  
Well not nothing. Just no where near as much as he would have wanted.  
  
Lance let out a shuddering breath.  
“So. She isn’t in the hands of ATLAS anymore which is nice. She’s back with me where she belongs. I’ll have to find a new power core and probably a new body but that could be arranged right? We have the contacts for that.”  
“For the power core yes. Not for an android body. Especially not a custom made one that high tech to fit the circuitry for a full consciousness. That's ATLAS experimental stuff. Not your run of the millstore bought stuff. Not even the black market has gotten their hands on that sort of gear.”  
“Well we have contacts in ATLAS though don’t we?”  
“Munitions faction yes. That’s only because they made a contract with me. As far as we know ATLAS thinks you are dead. And that's how we want to keep it.”  
“Why don’t I just contact my colleagues in the AI depar…”  
“They think you are dead. That’s how we want it to stay. Angel or not we are not risking our lives, business and the safety of our friends and family for the sake of an AI that you made once upon a time. I don’t mean to be a douche about it but you really need to think about these things. I can’t have you jump into the deep end and have to fish you out all the time.”  
Lance buried his head in his hands. “UGH! Why is this so hard?”  
“What about this new job?” I asked, trying my best to lead this conversation to a lighter note.  
“Oh yeah that.” Lance replied bitterly, “You know that lady I saved? Well I met her up in the tower. In the substation. She saved me from being a meat pancake on the sidewalk. We had a chat. I told her I was in the freelancing business. She said I might be of use. You know, help her out with a few things when this all blew over. We exchanged numbers, arranged a coffee meet. Nice and easy. Then a little while later up on the roof there was some business with the grekonian girl and Little Red Riding Hood.”  
“Little Red Riding Hood?”  
“I dunno either. She was a huntress. Friend of the grekonian girl. Grekonian girl ended up with an arrow in the chest and Red goes bat crazy. Bright lights from the eyes. Weird mist thing. I took the hit to shield Cinder from the blast. After I woke up Red was gone and I was left with a frozen Grimm dragon and an unconscious Cinder.”  
My eyebrows shot up. That explained the dark force from above. Dragons are one of the oldest species of Grimm, no wonder there were so many younglings were following it.  
“Then,” Lance continued, “I meet up with you and Emerald and that was that.”  
“You do realise something took out the transmitter, right?” I asked.  
“Yeah. That was the dragon.”  
“So you can't contact her via cell anymore.”  
He gave an uneasy smirk. “Well I might have lied about the exchanging of numbers.”  
My brain struggled to figure out what Lance was on about.  
“What?” He asked.  
“Then how is this coffee meet working?”  
“Well I slid a note into her dress on the way down. Had a place and time and everything. That counts right?”  
It was my turn to put my head in my hands.  
“Yep. I’m done.” I said quietly. “I need sleep and I’m hungry” I stood up and jogged down the steps to the rendezvous.  
“Hi hungry. I’m Lance.”  
I didn’t bother replying to that.  
“Sorry.” He said quickly, hurrying to catch up with me, “That was terrible. Do you wanna have a few drinks when we get back or something?”  
“No.”  
Lance shrugged. “Suit yourself.”  
We walked in silence for a few minutes, looking up into the silent, starry sky.  
“Hey Lance?” I asked.  
“Yeah?”  
“I like the broomstick look. It suits you.” He didn’t respond for a moment, instead turning back to gaze at the top of Beacon Tower.  
“Hey Garth?” He began, turning to me with that signature look of distaste.  
“Yeah?”  
“Screw you.”


End file.
